


A Cotillion Struck By Lightning

by inamac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Multi, Threesome, Voyeurism, cross dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-31
Updated: 2011-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:46:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inamac/pseuds/inamac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Hermione impersonates a Granger, Lucius is Legally Blonde, and Snape is rather sweet...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cotillion Struck By Lightning

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Livejournal 'Samhain Smut'; challenge 2011 to the prompt: Halloween costume ball: Suggested Kink: cross-dressing.

## A Cotillion Struck By Lightning

It had been ten years since the Battle of Hogwarts and there were a number of things which still baffled the Wizarding World. Firstly, how Severus Snape had survived the attempt on his life by Lord Voldemort and his familiar Nagini; secondly how Lucius Malfoy had escaped being sent to Azkaban, or at least avoided being stripped of his wealth and home, and, thirdly, and most baffling of all, how the heroine of the War, Hermione Granger, had ended up in a ménage à trois with the pair of them.

There were dozens of theories, and a good deal of speculation, but all three had had long practice at keeping their private lives private and took a certain amount of perverse delight in planting unlikely rumours and watching the press scrabble for crumbs.

Hermione was contemplating the possibilities for a little journalist-baiting (she had never quite lost the impulse even though Rita had retired) in the contents of the envelope which she had just slit open to reveal a thick printed card bearing all three of their names and titles.

"Another invitation?" Snape asked, leaning across the breakfast table to pour more tea into his mug.

Hermione nodded, and read aloud. " _The MCC Supporters Club invites Madam Hermione Granger OM1, Master Severus Snape OM1 and Mr Lucius Malfoy, to the Annual Halloween Costumed Cotillion, The Potter Memorial Hall, Godrics Hollow, on 31 October. RSVP._ "

Lucius looked up from filletting his kipper, "Well at least they've accorded me a 'Mister'. I'm getting some return on my investment."

Hermione was frowning at the invitation. "The MCC? I didn't think you were interested in Muggle cricket, Lucius."

"He's not," said Snape. "MCC is the Magical Children's Charity. It helps wizard orphans and children born to Muggle families to understand their powers when they develop. Lucius has been funding them for years."

"Muggle wizards? Like me? Why've I never heard of it then?"

"Because," said Lucius, with a touch of bitterness, "Dumbledore thought he knew better about bringing children into the wizarding community, though I can't say that I'm impressed with his record with regard to Riddle and Potter. You may not have heard of the MCC, but who, my dear, did you think sent you that copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ when you were eleven?"

Hermione was stunned for a second by this revelation, and Snape took advantage of her immobility to reach across, lift the card from her hand and turn it over. "Apparently," he said, "This year's theme is 'Vicars and Tarts'. Costume is compulsory." He looked across at Lucius, then back to Hermione. "And what," he asked, "is a vicar, exactly?"

She looked the pair of them up and down. "Someone who dresses in a long black robe," she said. "And a back-to-front dog collar. So that would hardly count as costume for either of you."

Lucius returned his attention to his fish. There was a reminiscent smile on his face. "With the buckle at the front, you mean? I've always found that to be rather uncomfortable."

Hermione almost choked on her egg. "Not that sort of dog-collar."

"Which leaves 'tart' said Lucius. "And I do not intend to dress up as a teatime comestible in public."

Hermione regarded him with fond exasperation. "You really don't know anything about Muggles, do you?"

"Well, I know a _lot_ about one particular Muggle..." Lucius' smile was lazily reminiscent.

Hermione glanced down at the bump occupied by the growing Lucius (or possibly Severus) Junior and made her decision. "I shall go as the Reverend Geraldine Granger," she announced. "And you two..."

"Yes?" Snape looked up with an innocent expression which clearly indicated that he would be down at the nearest Muggle library checking up on whatever she proposed at the first opportunity.

"Will have to wait and see," she finished.

+++

"Pink!" Lucius would have stamped his foot, but the four-inch stiletto heels he was wearing discouraged such emphasis. He compromised by throwing the toy dog which Hermione had transfigured from the teacosy as the final touch to his 'costume', across the room. "I look like that Umbridge bitch."

"Nonsense," Hermione reassured him. "She looked like a toad. You don't look a bit like a toad." She cocked her head, assessing his outfit, tailored suit, short skirt, long bare legs. "More of a elegant flamingo," she said.

"A pink flamingo." Lucius was not placated. He tossed his curled hair and smoothed down the tailored jacket which, admittedly, was very pink. "Who is this 'Elle Woods' character?"

"She was a Muggle lawyer," Hermione explained, retrieving the toy and tucking it back into the bag under Lucius' arm, "and, like you, a natural blonde. They made two films about her.".

"A famous lawyer? Well, if this is what Muggle lawyers wear then I suppose it is appropriate attire."

"I'm not sure that this is," Snape grumbled. "In what way," he asked Hermione, sweeping his hand down his front to indicate the costume she had provided, "Can this outfit be said to meet the requirements of this Cotillion? Or had you forgotten the instruction to dress as a tart?"

"I have been a little free with the definition," she admitted. "But I used to love eating Gypsy Tart as a child – when I could sneak it past my parents. It was sweet, and sticky, and delicious." She leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek, "Like you."

"Hmmm." Snape scowled. In fact the layers of the long flounced skirt, the tight bodice laced over a waist-nipping corset, and the frills of the off-the-shoulder blouse did emphasise the man's exotic curled and thickened dark hair and kohl-lined eyes.

"Well," said Lucius, sticking his wand into the pet-carrier alongside the stuffed toy, "If you're both ready I suppose we had better set off." He held out his right arm to Hermione, who looped her left arm through his and her right through Snape's. He reached down to the table and picked up the invitation card. There was a shiver in the air as the portkey activated, and the room was empty.

+++

Hermione was relieved to find, as she looked out over the assembly of their fellow guests while waiting to be formally announced, that she had judged their costumes accurately. Some of the pureblood wizards had obviously consulted Muggle advisors about their outfits, and there were a number of 'vicars' of both sexes, comfortable in their ersatz 'robes'. She could not be sure whether the women had understood the 'tarts' theme or were merely wearing (or, in the case of Pansy Parkinson and the Greengrass girls, _not_ wearing) their usual party frocks. Hermione suspected that, like a number of the 'vicars' being plied with drink from the free bar, they would be unfrocked by the evening's end.

"Hermione!" Harry Potter hailed her from across the room and, by the time she and her paramours reached the floor, he had, despite the handicap of fishnet stockings and very high heels, dragged his wife through the crowd to meet her. "Great costume! I almost didn't recognise you with short hair!"

Hermione bounced the curve of her wig on the palm of her hand. "Meet the babe with a bob cut and a magnificent bosom," she quoted.

"You're looking great. And are your... partners... coming?"

"Mister Potter," said Snape, at his most acerbic, "Was never very observant."

"Or tactful." Lucius extended an immaculately manicured hand, each fingernail painted with electric pink polish. "How do you do. Mr Potter. My former wife and my son send their regards."

Hermione smiled, as Harry, clearly without consciously making the decision, found himself shaking hands cordially with Malfoy. The by-play had not been missed by the rest of the guests, and the atmosphere in the room lightened.

They moved out into the fray.

Potter's acceptance, coupled with their costumes, did much to reduce the murmurs of outrage and the direct threats which usually greeted their appearance in public. Hermione managed a few sedate dances with her partners before releasing them to more active social duties.

It was a couple of hours later, and Hermione had ransacked the buffet and found a quiet place to sit down and ease her back while picking at the food when she found Snape back by her side, concern written on his face. "You need to rest, Hermione. We've done our duty here."

She shook her head. "There's still an hour to midnight when the formal speeches begin. I have been invited to say something. And then there are the fireworks..."

Snape glanced out of the long windows. "It won't be much of a display in this rain," he observed.

"And Hermione is certainly not going to stand out in the wet." Lucius had joined them. He might not have seen the films on which his costume was based, but his air of indignation was perfectly in character. "Fireworks," he added, with a thoughtful frown. Then he picked up his bag and turned away, "Let me deal with this," he said. "Severus, you had better get ready to apparate Hermione home. I'll meet you later."

"But..." was all Hermione managed to get out before Lucius had gone, a pink blur amid the crowd.

The pair of them waited with some apprehension. Outside the drumming of rain on the windows grew louder; loud enough to be heard over the music, and guests other than Snape began wondering about the promised firework display. There was a rumble of distant thunder and then, with no time to count between the sound and the flash, the windows lit with white light, there was a crash overhead – and every light in the hall went out.

+++

"Malfoy!" Hermione's exhaustion had vanished beneath her anger. As soon as Snape released her from his grip for their side-along departure from the cotillion she stormed into the sitting room where she found the object of her fury relaxed in a chair and sipping at his own wine. "Was that storm your doing?"

"Some of my ancestors," said Lucius, turning the glass to reflect the light from the chandelier, "were seafarers."

"They were pirates," Snape stated in tones that brooked no argument.

"We prefer the term 'free traders'," Lucius sniffed, "But, regardless of the terminology, they were accomplished weather-wizards, and it is not a talent that has been lost over the centuries."

"Then it _was_ you. Really, Lucius, that lightning strike brought down part of the roof! People could have been hurt."

Lucius rose and walked to the sideboard to pour two more glasses of the wine. "But none were," he said, as insufferably smug as only a Malfoy could be. "I may have assisted Nature a little, and I do think that that bell-tower was overly ostentatious, but nothing except possibly the ego of the architect was harmed by my actions. Think of it as a little architectural criticism."

"We could have just made our excuses and left," Hermione pointed out.

Snape hid a grin behind his hand as Lucius drew himself to his full height – considerably enhanced by the high heels. "Malfoys _never_ make excuses," he said.

Hermione eased herself into the wing chair which Lucius had vacated and kicked off her shoes. She gave a sigh of contentment. "Well, I'm not complaining. I'm bushed."

"Oh dear," said Lucius, with no trace of contrition, "And I had hoped for a little dalliance before we retired for the night."

"Sadly," Hermione gestured to her enceinte condition, "I can't engage in any strenuous activity at the moment." She took in their joint expressions of disappointment and smiled. This was exactly the end she had anticipated for the evening, though the journey here had been unexpected. She licked her lips. "But I would _love_ to watch you two undress each other. Slowly."

Snape's eyes were gleaming with mischief.

Lucius looked speculatively at Severus, and back to Hermione. "You never told us that voyeurism was one of your vices."

She grinned. "A girl likes to keep some secrets. At least until the right moment."

"And this is the moment." Lucius set down his glass and turned, stepping closer to the other man to slip an arm around his corseted waist. "Well, Severus, we wouldn't want to disappoint our lady." Securing his victim with that arm he raised his free hand to pull down the ruffled sleeve of the blouse to reveal Snape's shoulder and the jut of his collar-bone. He fastened his lips there and followed the line of corded muscle up to Snape's ear, where he took the clip of the hooped earring between his teeth and pulled it free.

Snape yelped. "Animal," he protested.

"Tart," Lucius stated, unrepentantly moving his attention to the other shoulder and ear.

Hermione caught her breath and lifted her fingers to loosen the collar around her own neck, fingertips mapping on her own body the journey that Lucius' mouth was making across Snape's.

Severus was by no means passive. As Lucius turned his attention to the lacing of the corset he moved his own hands round to slide down the zip of the pink jacket. Lucius arched into the touch of the long fingers following the parting fabric down his spine.

"Muggle inventions," Lucius gasped, "do have some uses."

"Zips are faster than laces," Hermione agreed, watching Snape's fingers probing for the second zip on Lucius' skirt.

"I'm not sure," said Snape, stretching as Lucius unhooked the last fastenings of the corset and released him from its confines, "that a vicar should be enjoying this quite so much."

Hermione grinned. "Trust me, it's entirely in character for this vicar. Do go on."

They needed no further encouragement. Snape took full advantage of his freedom of movement to complete the task of stripping Lucius of his outer garments, hands lingering over the exposed curves of his naked arse, the defining straps of the suspender belt and the confining pink lace of his knickers. Lucius was wearing them back-to-front, Hermione noticed, as the sight made her own knickers feel somewhat damp. The more generous amount of fabric nevertheless strained to contain his growing arousal. She made a little sound of appreciative lust in her throat and both men paused.

Lucius was naked now, save for the knickers, belt, stockings and heels, and rutting openly against his partner. Severus deliciously dishevelled, curls loose down his back, blouse pushed down and bunched over his hips with the voluminous skirts, torso naked but for the lovebites Lucius had placed there, reached down to pull his wand from the long black laced Victorian boots and transfigured the chaise longue into a wide bed. With a jangle of bracelets he pushed his fingers through Lucius' long blond curls and dragged them both down onto the bed and into a passionate kiss.

Hermione put a steadying hand on her bump, unsure whether it was Severus Junior or the arousal caused by Severus senior that was kicking at her guts. "Go on," she urged.

They hardly needed the encouragement.

Finding himself prone atop Severus' willing body Lucius pushed the confining knickers down to his thighs and shoved up his partner's skirts to allow himself to slide his freed member between the slick thighs. Severus made a sound, half growl, half shriek, and wrapped his leather-clad calves around Lucius' buttocks, pulling him closer and encouraging him to completion.

Hermione shifted her position to watch. There were, despite the coolness of the autumn night, tiny beads of sweat on Lucius' forehead as he pushed himself to climax between Severus' fingers and thighs. She loved watching his face at this moment, eyes closed, long blond lashes fanned down on his cheeks, mouth open to reveal a tongue curled in ecstasy. She moaned, and was echoed, all three of them lost in the moment. None of them heard the rumble of thunder overhead, or saw the crack of lightning that heralded the deluge.

It would be a stormy winter.

The End


End file.
